Travelling to San Francisco, the UK-US Flight

So I’m safely wrapped up in a comfy duvet in San Francisco, after a rather good set of flights from Edinburgh (via London Gatwick and Dallas Fort Worth). It was on the ground at the transfers where all the fun was.

Gatwick first up, and I had chosen this for an outbound on the strength of how smooth previous transfers to Europe, and return flights, has been. Unfortunaltly it went all uncomfortable this time, as the plane arrived at a stand, so we were taken on buses and forced to go through the main security theatre hall, and not the transit hall. What has previously been a five minute exercise became a 60 minute queue.

But more fun was to happen at Dallas. With the flight running 20 minutes late, and American Airlines tweaking their scedules since I booked the flight, by the time I left the door of the transatlantic 777, I had 50 minutes to get to the other side of the airport to catch the San Francisco internal. And that time included immigration and customs.

So a stupidly long amount of queing later (and explaining that the 1.5kg of Dairy Milk was for personal use because “I get moody”) I get through customs, grab the case, and have to seriously think about the next step. First decision was I wasn’t going to check the bag. I could run around the terminals, but the bag would be stuck on a slow trolly truck. So stuff that, I’ll lug it round as I sprint. Next up, I;d better let them know I’m on my way.

So I nip over to the re-bookings desk, tell them to cancel the ‘carry-on’ luggage flag, and that I am here. So she does two great things. The first is to call ahead and let the gate know I’m on the way, and then she books me onto the next San Francisco flight as well (two hours later) as I’ll likely miss this one. Without prompting, some pro-active customer service. I really appreciated that.

So up we go, through US Security Theatre, and another nod of thanks I have status on American so I can bypass the super long line, grab my boots in my bag (no time to lace em up again) and head to the transfer monorail. Put the boots on there, look out and see my next plane, and just wait…. wait… wait… and then sprint.

Jump off, through the terminal, past deserted gates, and there’s a Matronly figure at gate C35 pointing at me, the door, and her watch, all in one breath. I get there, and here the most delightful words I have ever heard:

“Mr Spence, your flight is waiting… and your upgrade came through.”

Not only am I on the way to The Bay on time, but I’m in first class, with constant service, legroom, recline, a full dinner, drinks waiting for me on the plane, and the most relaxing flight I’ve had to date. And I broke a long habit of mine and had a drink on the flight. After all, they were offering an 18 year old Glenfiddich from the complimentary drinks trolly…